This could also be entitled “motorcycling in the rain”. I have always said that most women are tougher, stronger, can handle more discomfort, pain with less complaining than most men. I mean, face it, if this weren’t the case, the human race would probably die off if we had to rely on men to go through pregnancy and delivery.

But I digress. This past weekend, I had a meeting in the Gatineau/Ottawa area. The weather forecast seemed nice, although this can change quite suddenly (as we learned), so I decided to be a trooper and offered that we ride the motorcycle to our destination where hubby has a good biker buddy, so they could ride all day Saturday during my meeting, hang out in the evening and we’d ride back on Sunday.

It’s a good 5 hour ride + because you have to stop to get gas, stretch your legs, eat, etc.

The first challenge was to manage to get everything I needed in terms of clothing, shoes, makeup, and a dressier jacket and so on, for my meeting to fit into the small top case. But I managed. Go me! Second challenge was to get over the embarrassment of removing the helmet with the dreaded helmet hair to enter restaurants and other public places during the ride (as in anywhere anybody can actually see me). I eventually got over the urge to hide under a rock and just ran my fingers through my crazy flat hair or put my sunglasses in my head like a headband. Go me again! The ride to get there went quite well. The weather was nice, not too cold, very sunny and dry.

The ride back was much different. After about 75 km of cloudy conditions, the rain came down for the entire rest of the ride. Over 400 km of soaking, wet, cold rain and high winds. Thank goodness for waterproof clothing, but my gloves were not waterproof, nor were my boots. Also, you don’t exactly have windshield wipers on a motorcycle helmet. Not to mention the noise of that wind. It’s similar to having two cheap kitchen fans on HIGH on either side of your head for hours. Not to mention the water coming up off the other cars and trucks on the road and splashing us. Because, face it, there were not very many motorcycles on the road. I think we saw about four, and only one in the rainy conditions. The other three we met right out of Gatineau, when it was just cloudy.

Inside my helmet, I kept thinking “I want to be home. I want to be dry. I want to get off this damn thing and take a hot bath and for everything to be quiet.” But I sat there, on the back, and kept saying that I was ok because, hey, I had wet hands and feet and too much noise in my ears, but I’ve been through worse. Also, at least I didn’t have to drive the damn thing in those conditions. Go hubby!

When we arrived home, I turned my gloves upside down and at least one full glass of water poured out. My boots are still drying.

Hubby complained more than I did.

Women are superheroes.

Hubby told me that many women would have insisted that he drop them off at a bus terminal to ride home warm and dry.

Riding on a motorcycle for almost 500 km in the pouring rain. Check.

I know, I must sound like I have a very weird bucket list. But I don’t, situations just turn out that way.